


Slave to the Game (A Jack the Ripper Story)

by Jules_SuperWhoLock123



Category: Jack the Ripper - Fandom
Genre: 19th Century, Detective, Drugs, F/F, Girl x Girl, History, Homophobia, Jack the Ripper - Freeform, London, Mortician, Murder, Mystery, Serial Murder, Thriller, Violence, major plot twist
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-10-25 00:50:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10753278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jules_SuperWhoLock123/pseuds/Jules_SuperWhoLock123
Summary: A not-so-classic retelling of the infamous murderer Jack the Ripper. A young woman in the late 19th Century, Dinah Fay, is intrigued with the art of being a mortician, her father was, and now she is. Because of her chosen profession she is frowned upon in the eyes of society, even without her choice of gender in her love life being public. Through her job she gets swept away with trying to solve the murders by Jack the Ripper.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Detailed descriptions of wounds, cuts, and mentions of blood. Main Character is a Mortician so we want to include what we believe she would see and think. Could be triggering to some people. Descriptions are usually kept to one or two paragraphs, no detailed mentions of the death after those paragraphs. Please keep an eye out.

September 1st, 1888

"I am not wearing that." Was the first thing that left my mouth as Elara brought out the dress.

"Oh, come on!" she exclaimed, her mouth upturned in a smirk, "It'll compliment your hair and eye color perfectly."

"No." I pushed myself from the chair and took the dress in my hands. "For one, I have never even _liked_ this color. It instantly makes me look paler than I already am. Also, the sleeves are too long."

"You sure?" she pleaded, her emerald green eyes looking out at me from underneath dark eyelashes. I responded by swiftly putting the dress back in her closet. My eyes swept through her garments, taking in the array of colors that shone out at me.

"Can't you just be a normal girl for one night? It's my 'coming out' ceremony tonight, and I really want you to be there with me and if you wear one of your own dresses, I don't think I’d be able to acknowledge you." she teased and I gave Elara a long stare, her eyes staring pleadingly back into mine.

"Just this once. But now you owe me a favor." The sight of her instantly lighting up almost rendered my reluctance useless.

"Thank you so much Dinah. You're the best." she said, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek. "But since you were so hesitant, I get to do your hair too." she whispered in my ear, before twirling away from me. I let out a deep sigh before sitting back down on the chair, burying my cold hands in my skirt. After two years of knowing Elara, I still can't resist those _stupid_ puppy-dog eyes. Through Elara's quiet whistling to herself, a quiet knock sounded on the door.

"One moment please!" Elara called, finishing the last pin in her braid before heading over to the door. “Yes?” The maid at the door fiddled with her fingers, her eyes fluttering around the room before speaking.

“There’s a gentleman at the door for Miss Bellaus. They said you are needed at the...office.” Elara looked at me quizzically but I waved away the question in her eyes,

“My mom calls her study the office. It’s a silly little thing she picked up.” I made my way to the door, half-hugging her side as I passed. “I will be here in time for tea.” I said squeezing her shoulder before following the maid down the hall.

“Mr. Clay!” I called pleasantly, seeing the figure at the door, “What a surprise to see you here! I didn’t know you made house calls now.” My voice going flat at the end, getting rid of the pleasantness to it.

“Miss Bellaus.” he responded with a sparkle in his eye, “It was just getting a little hectic down at the-” he paused, glancing over at the maid, “-office.” I regarded him coolly as the maid slung my cape over my shoulders. I dismissed the her with a nod, and walked over to Archer and followed him out to the carriage, keeping a respectable distance between the two of us.

“What could be so urgent that you would have to come to Miss Turner’s house?” I inquired once we had reached the concealing walls of the horse carriage.

“There has been a death.”

“Of course there’s been a _death_. We work at a morgue.” I looked at him, exasperated.

“There’s been murder. A very gruesome one at that.” Archer said, his lightly tanned face twisting at the memory. The rest of the carriage ride passed in a blur. My thoughts flickering back to his face when he mentioned the body. There’s never been much that can faze the young man, and dread started to cloud my thoughts at images of what I could possibly be walking in to.

~~~~

We walked into the mortuary, his hand hovering above my back, leading me into the cold, steel pillars lining the walls. We ventured down the stairs, coming to the one of the coldest rooms in the building. On the center table lay a blanket covering the lower half of a young girl. As I came upon the table, sliding gloves onto my hands, it seemed to just be a normal dead body I find everyday waiting for me, but as I slid the blanket down further and further it took every bit of willpower I had to keep my reaction controlled. Her throat had been slit twice from left to right, and had two deep jagged wounds on the expanse of her skin. Her abdomen had also been mutilated, many cuts slashing across her stomach. She also had four smaller cuts along her side. I felt repulsed. She looks about the same age as I. She looks like the girl I date.

“What was her name.” My voice thick with emotion, I struggled to get the words out.

“Miss Mary Ann Nichols. She is twenty years old, 5” 3’, dark brown hair. Last seen entering her apartment with a figure in a black cape. No good description of the suspect. No family able to be located at this time.” My eyes fluttered shut, taking a deep breath as I slowly compartmentalized my brain from the emotion before opening them again. “From the looks of the crime scene and patterns of the blood spill, her throat was slit when she was on the ground. The first witness interviewed said that her skirts were pulled up around her waist. She was exposed. My guess is she was killed while looking at her attacker lying down.” Archer continued. I grabbed a small fleaglass with my left hand from the worktable and inspected the wounds.

“That seems all seems correct. From the looks of the wound, the entry point was on the left side of the neck and they moved across to the right.” I moved down to the smaller incisions on her abdomen, “These are very precise. Someone would have to know what they are doing, that means we are possibly looking for a doctor or someone who has the skills. With the large wound on her stomach, it’s possible they were looking for organs, although, at a glance there are no cavities that missing organs would leave. The suspect would’ve used a long, slim knife. Maybe about six to eight inches long.” I said over a time period of a couple minutes. 

“Do the police have any leads?” I continued. He shook his head.

“The only thing they know is what I told you. It is possible they have come up with more, but I haven’t gotten any news.” I nodded and pulled the blanket back over her body, briefly closing my eyes once more. “Are you okay, Dinah?” he said after a monent, his voice soft and concerned. I shrugged,

“That’s not very proper of you, Mr. Clay.” I teased, though it had no heart to it. He nodded reluctantly.

“I can have the butler make some tea if you would like.” he suggested. I shook my head, but he kept going, “Tea is very good for the soul you know. It could help calm you.” I sighed through my nose,

“I mustn’t. I am meeting Elara for tea before her coming out ceremony tonight. I promised her I would be there for her.” His hazel eyes drooped,

“Fine. See you tonight then?” I furrowed my eyebrows. “For her coming out ceremony tonight? She sent me an invitation.” My eyes widened in surprise at his words, and he only shrugged. “I’m thinking she knew you would want one more familiar face there tonight than just Jessamine.” He winked at her name and I flushed.

“See you tonight, Mr. Clay.” I responded,

“See you tonight, Miss Bellaus.”

~~~~~

The coachman held out his hand and I politely took it as I stepped delicately out of the carriage. My eyes landed on the familiar golden-brown hair of a girl standing in wait at Elara’s front door. At the sound of the horse's hooves trotting away, her head turned and my heart skipped a beat when I saw her face. Jessamine, with her high cheekbones that make her face seem paler than the rest of her, would always cause my day to brighten. Her hair, consistent in it’s perfection, fell in golden ringlets against her maroon dress, which fitted her hourglass shape with breathtaking appeal. Her pale-pink lips adorned in red stain curled into a smile when she saw me, her cheeks flushing.

“Miss Jessamine.” I murmured, falling in beside her.

“Miss Dinah.” Her warm breath tickled my ear as she leaned in closer to me, “How was the...office.” I turned my head, my dark eyes meeting her stormy grey ones.

“Disturbing.” I whispered to her. Her warm hand rested at the small of my back, giving slight comfort.

“Who was it today?” Her melodic voice filled the air, calming my frayed nerves from earlier. Before I could reply, the oak wood door swung open revealing a maid,

“Miss Bellaus, Miss Welborn,” she spoke with a lilting Welsh accent, “Miss Turner is waiting in the drawing room.” She took our capes off our hands, hanging them up, before leading us to the drawing room. Once there, Elara lifted her head from embroidering a dress that lay in her lap, a smile lining her lips.

“Jessamine! Dinah!” Excitement spreading across her face even though she had seen me only an hour before.

“Oh that is absolutely beautiful embroidery!” Jessamine exclaimed, rushing over to Elara’s side to examine the stitching, “How on earth did you decide to do this? You’ll have to teach me,” she gushed. Elara beamed at the compliment, nodding enthusiastically at the thought. I watched the two of them interact, becoming almost jealous at the way they were able to get excited over such simple things.

“Won’t you come see?” Jessamine said, waving me over, her grey eyes gleaming. I rolled my eyes at her and made my way over. Even though I didn’t find embroidery as intriguing, I couldn’t help but be astonished at the intricacy.

“That is beautiful.” I confessed, and Elara rested her hand on mine for a brief moment before laying aside the dress.

“You must try the tea I had my maids get, it is delicious!” Elara lifted her hand and waved her housemaid over, who already had the tea in her hands. “Thank you, Isabelle.” As she laid the tea on the table,

“Anything else Miss Turner?”

“No. Thank you, Isabelle.” She dipped her head, and scurried away. I grabbed a cup of the tea, and brought it to my lips once before sitting down in a chair. A hum of pleasure escaped before I could help myself and Jessamine hid a grin behind her cup of tea.

“Who is excited for tonight?” Jessamine asked, and the room was filled with conversation for the next half hour, most of it banter between Jessamine and Elara. I sat content in the chair, just watching the conversation progress from the ceremony tonight to the attire that will be worn to the boys who might be there, mostly pointed to Elara, to complaints of politics; I added comments here and there but never truly engaged. During all this, my eyes flitted to and from the slim figures of Elara and Jessamine. I had always wondered how they became good friends. Elara was the kind of girl who always followed the rules, never swaying from the social norms. Meanwhile Jessamine did follow the rules, but she always found loopholes for the certain societal rules she didn’t quite agree with. Along with the differing ideals, they didn’t even look like the kind of people that could be good friends. Elara had sharp, prominent features with blond hair and Jessamine had delicate features with golden brown hair.

“What do you think?” Elara asked, her voice obviously directed towards me, pulling me out of my thoughts,

“Hmm?” Elara rolled her eyes, being use to the fact I never fully participated in these conversations all that often. After a moment of silence, the tall-case grandfather clock let out a chime of bells. In sync, the three of us looked over to the clock and read that it was 4 o’clock. “We should start getting ready for the ball tonight.” she said. A sound of disgruntlement escaped my lips causing both of them to laugh,

“You’ll survive.” Elara teased, looping her arm through mine to drag me to her room, Jessamine following beside us with laughter in her beautiful eyes.

“Oh, I don’t know.” I scoffed, ”I may be from a higher class family, but that doesn’t mean I like it.” Elara gave me a long stare,

“You are a horrendous woman.” she muttered under her breath teasingly, I looked over her head at Jessamine and winked, causing her blush.

“You have no idea.” I replied.

It took nearly an hour to put the finishing touches on our hair and make-up before finally slipping into our evening gowns. I fell into a chair, feeling the exhaustion of being proper already getting to me.

“Elara, you are an absolute goddess. You have really outdone yourself this time.” Jessamine exclaimed as she spun in front of the full-body mirror. I'd have to agree, she looked even more breathtaking than she normally is. Powder highlighted her already pointed cheekbones, and she had reapplied her red lip stain, making her lips even more plush.

Elara had even managed to make me look like a lady. She had convinced me to wear a form fitting, deep, forest green dress that had gems scattered along it like dew on morning grass. She had pulled back my long, brown-almost black hair into pulled back curls that were pinned behind my head. She had put a light pink lip stain to help extenuate my pale skin. Even though I looked liked a princess, I felt a twinge of uneasiness at the prospect of having to be around so many high-ranking members of society.

“Do I have to go to this party.” I mumbled, drooping against the back of the chair.

“Yes. You do. Now you need to leave because I have a special ritual I do before every big event and it’ll ruin the entire night if I don’t do it.” Elara commented, making a motion with her hand to kick us out. I rolled my eyes, and followed Jessamine out the door. I slumped against the wall a few feet away from her room and sighed.

“What’s that about?” Jessamine asked, I shrugged slightly.

“Just...decomposing from the day. It was...rough.” Sympathy flooded her eyes and she put a rested her hand on my shoulder. My eyes landed on her hand and followed her arm up to her eyes, a small smile forming on my face.

“I do have an idea of what I could do to both pass the time and cheer you up.” Jessamine said lightly, sliding her hand down my arm slowly until it reached my hand and curled her fingers around my own. I arched an eyebrow as she pulled me down the hall towards the library.

“The library? I’m pretty sure men still think that that ruins our brains.” I replied a little sarcastically but as we rounded the corner I was pushed lightly up against the large wooden doors of the library.

“No.” was the only thing she said before tenderly laying her lips against mine. I sighed into the kiss as the familiarity of it brought me comfort. As I moved to deepen the kiss, an image of the girl from the morgue flashed into my brain and I pulled away inherently.

“I-” A flush rose over me, “I’m sorry. I just…” I trailed off getting lost in her assuring grey eyes, “The young women I did an autopsy looked a lot like you.” I confessed, and surprise fluttered onto her face, “I just… I can’t get rid of the idea of…you ending up on that table.” Her hand squeezed mine in comfort.

“I’m sorry that that happened but I’ll _never_ end up on that table. I promise.” I nodded as she wrapped her arms around my shoulders pulling me into a tight hug. “I promise.” she said, her voice only a whisper in my ear. We stood like that a while, her fingers trailing up and down my arm in comfort, before Elara’s voice rang out in the halls.

“Jessamine? Dinah? Where di you guys go?”

“Coming!” We scurried out of our hiding place, running almost straight into Elara.

“You guys just disappeared.” she stated.

“I needed to use the ladies room.” I responded, the lie coming easily. Suspicion laced her eyes but turned around to head back to her room without saying a word. Jessamine slipped me a subtle wink, pecking my cheek with a quick kiss before following Elara into her bedroom again.

~~~~

The coming of age ball crawled by like a slug crawling across black tar in the hot sun. Slowly and painfully. The guests didn’t leave until after eleven which by that time my feet were aching as if I was constantly stepping on pins. I watched Elara wave off the the final guest. I sagged against the wall, feeling the relief of not having to “look like a lady” anymore. I gave Jessamine a small smile as she stepped into her carriage. I still can’t believe the way she makes every little movement look like perfection. I waited for Elara to make her way back up the steps that led into her main door.

“I think that went well.” She declared as she reached a distance close enough for me to hear, “That went well. Right?” I gave her a small nod in affirmation, following her back into the house.

“I may have to leave soon. It’s already late and I have to wo-” I cut myself off before I could reveal that I worked at the morgue, that I worked at all. Women don’t work, they have tea and talk about pretty dresses with their friends. Women don’t slice open dead bodies for scientific gratification, they go out to eat with a possible suitor and make small talk about the weather. “-chores to tend to in the early morning.”

Elara pursed her lips at my comment. She turned and walked over to the wall opposite of me, “I have to say, Dinah-” she snarled, throwing me off with the intensity of it, “I’m getting quite sick of your lies. I don’t know what you think you can’t tell me.... You know I don’t really care. I may seem like the perfect young woman who tries to make herself suitable for the eyes of the city, but I honestly could care less about what you choose do in your free time.”

“Ela-” She turned her head away from me, clenching her jaw.

“Just don’t. I wish you could be honest with me. Where you go during the day. I wish you could feel comfortable enough with me to confess the secrets you’ve been keeping about who you spend your free time with. I already know.” She almost shouted the last phrase and my mouth fell open at her declarations before quickly closing it. I thought about what I could say. I could lie to her again, say that I haven't been hiding anything... except I've kept my entire life from her. My work at the morgue. Dating Jessamine. If she says that she already knows about Jessamine, she either doesn't care or she would've done something about it. I could pass off my lying of as _just_ dating Jessamine I thought, but as I searched her face for what I could say I realized I wanted to tell her everything.

“Can we do this somewhere else?” I replied softly, “There will be prying ears and I'm lying for a good reason about what I do.” She nodded and lead me to her room. She gestured for me to sit once we were there but I shook my head. If I needed to make a quick get away it'd be best if I wasn't sitting.

“What do you know?” I asked her and her eyes sharpened, “I just want to know what I need to tell you.” I explained quickly not wanting her to get the wrong idea. She pursed her lips once more before starting. 

“I know there is a guy. The one who showed up at my door earlier? But I don't know who or what he is to you.”

“His name is Archer Clay.” I said but before I could continue she blurted out,

“The guy at the morgue??!!” She covered her mouth with her hand in embarrassment at her outburst.

“I work there with him. In there is one of the places I truly feel like myself, we’re equals.” I confessed and Elara nodded,

“Jessamine knows, I'm assuming.” she responded dryly and I winced at her tone,

“Yes. And there is a reason for that.”

“You're courting each other. I know. I see how you look at each other.” I looked guiltily down at my hands. “It's how my older sister looks at her husband.” Elara commented.

“And you're not...disgusted?” I asked hesitantly, not looking up from my hands. I heard rustle of skirts and she entangled her hands with mine.

“We’ve known each other for two years,” she started, her voice soft, “If I hated you, it'd be like hating me for not even wanting to court someone.” Tensions leached out of my shoulders,

“Thank you.” I whispered.

“That's all?” I nodded, “Morgue and Jessamine. Not so hard to tell the truth, is it?” I flinched but she pressed on, “But I understand why you hid it. Why you didn't confide in me earlier. You never know how someone will react,” She gave me a warm smile, “Now, don't you have to get home to sleep? You have very important work to do tomorrow.” She gripped my hand and led down the hall and to the front door where she gathered up my things for me, “Be safe.” 

“I will.” I replied, so soft I wasn't sure she heard it but a slight smile told me she did before I climbed into the carriage that was waiting for me. 

 

**Hi guys!! Hope you are enjoying it! Thank you so much for giving this story a chance c: We have part of the second chapter written so it won't be too long before that's posted. See you next chapter! Any kind of comments appreciated!**


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Detailed descriptions of wounds, cuts, and mentions of blood. Main Character is a Mortician so we want to include what we believe she would see and think. Could be triggering to some people. Descriptions are usually kept to one or two paragraphs, no detailed mentions of the death after those paragraphs. Please keep an eye out.

The next five days passed with nothing of interest. I did a few autopsies of course, but only on the dull cases from the hospitals, all causes of deaths being natural ones. Not that I love having more intricate deaths from murders or some other reason, but they do make it more fun.

~~~

“There’s only one of them. Why is there only one of them!” I exclaimed, staring at the jar that used to hold a pair of eyeballs.

“You said to throw that one away.” Archer accused.

“Why would you only throw one of them of away? Eyes are pairs. They are supposed to be paired with the other. What would be the purpose of only discarding one.” I justified.

“I only do what you say to do. You are basically my boss.” he said.

“But we don’t have a boss. Neither of us are a boss to the other.” I glared at him. He smirked as I stalked around to throw the one remaining eyeball away. He tried to grab my elbow as I passed him, but I pulled away, “Don’t touch me. I’m mad at you.”

We worked in silence for a bit. I scanned the shelves filled with specimens that we’ve collected over the years. I removed the jars that had old, slightly rotting specimens and handed them to Archer, who proceeded to inspect them. He threw them away or handed them back to me in order to put them back in order. Oldest in the front, placed in alphabetical order.

“Some of this conversation is making me think a little about our working situation,” he pondered aloud, “Why don’t we have someone older than twenty-five here to keep us in line. Neither of us are technically old enough to run a mortuary by ourselves. We work with dead bodies, for heaven’s sake.”

“My father.” I said simply, “He’s the reason I got into this line of work in the first place. He died when I was 17. He had this brain disease where he’d have these periodical blackouts. Like he would wake up in his room, but never remember going to bed. Or he’d be eating supper but he wouldn’t remember making it. He was always fully mobile but he just… couldn’t remember it. He was also a mortician. He always loved the complexity of the machine that is the human body. The way that the throat connected to the stomach. And how the stomach decides to either send the food and nutrients to the body or dispose of the waste. He would come home from work everyday, and have this-” I paused, thinking back to the times he was alive, “look in his eyes. He’d tell us about certain cases he’d come across. I was always the first to sit down at his feet while he was talking and just listen. Enraptured by the way he would talk. When he died I was already apprenticing under him, so I ended up taking over the morgue. Of course, I was only 18 so a need for a partner arose. But I never accepted a boss because no one could replace my father...”

A silence fell across the room as I finished. Archer, too surprised by my sudden revelation to talk about my past, stayed silent. I finished placing the few jars that I had left back onto the shelf, a soft smile on my lips as I thought about the way he glowed when I expressed my interest in becoming a mortician.

“Feel free to leave when ever you would like. I may keep on organizing, either our experiments or...” I trailed off, my voice soft with emotion. I felt his eyes on my back even though my back was to him.

“I'll stay. I can work on some notes about… something,” he decided. I felt his sympathy cloud the room. _It’s improper to leave a woman alone with her emotion_ , I remembered my mother saying from one her of lessons on etiquette.

Hours passed and the room lowly began to darken as the sun went below the horizon. A shadow fell across my notepad and Archer’s voice filled the room,

“I should get you home.” He lightly touched my elbow and guided me to stand. I stretched slightly as my legs were stiff from sitting still so long.

“I can get home by myself,” I said, rebellion lining my voice. He gave me an exasperated stare, and I held his gaze without falter. As our staring contest progressed, I felt my resolve failing and I let out a sigh. “You don’t get to walk me to the door.” I conceded, and a grin spread across his face.

“I already ordered a coach, it should be here soon.” he stated as we walked to the door together. As we passed by a table, I saw an idea come to his mind. “Here,” he said, reaching down to grab one of the small flowers, “I got this from one of my favorite flower shop, the florist said that the smell helps with memory.” Interest spread through me and I took it from his hand. I bent my neck to take a deep breath of the long white flower.

“I like it,” I commented as he led me to the coach.

I awoke with a start the next morning. I couldn’t remember the last time I felt this unrested after waking up before. As I sat up, a feeling of apprehension settled in my gut. Quickly, I jumped out of bed to make myself at least a bit presentable before going down the stairs to the foyer. I was about to round the sharp corner of dark wood when I felt a hand settle on my shoulder. I turned around sharply, startled, and let out a breathe of relief when I saw it was just my mother.

“Sweetheart!” My mother, Rebecca, cried out at my sudden movement. “What is the matter?” her voice soft with worry.

“Sorry,” I apologized shortly, “I just… I have this horrible feeling right now. Do you know of any incidents that occurred last night?”

“I don’t. We haven’t gotten the morning post quite yet.”

“Oh,” I muttered, turning around to head to the parlor. I felt her eyes on my back as I disappeared down the hall. I shook my hands trying to rid myself of the growing pit of dread in my stomach as I entered.

“Would you like me to draw up some tea Miss Bellaus?” a maid asked as I went through the door. I bit my lip as I decided before shaking my head,

“I’ll just have tea with my breakfast later.” I replied to her. The maid gave a small bow as she turned away. “Wait!” She turned around, “Have any of the other maids been gossiping this morning?” I asked and she looked startled, “I just have the worst feeling something happened last night and I cannot shake it no matter how hard I try.”

She opened her mouth with some hesitation, “One of the maids came in today distraught because there was a bod-” She cut off, “-someone found last night. Said it was someone she knew because the victim had worked here at one point. Also said that it wasn’t - pretty.” I went pale, “Are you sure you don’t want me to make some tea? You look rather sickly.” I shook my head and went as fast as I could to my room where I put on a dress, put a little makeup on before making my way to the front door.

“Would you like me to call a carriage?” the maid asked, as if sensing my urgency.

“Yes please.” I responded, putting on my cape. The carriage showed up after a few minutes of waiting and I gave the coachman the address and climbed in. The drive over took agonizingly long and I was nearly at a sprint as I hurried into the morgue once the carriage came to a stop. As I came to the door, it swung open revealing Archer who looked ready to drive off somewhere as well.

“Miss Bellaus! I was just on my way to fetch you.”

“I got one of my maids to spill the morning gossip.” I said, brushing past him not wanting to wait a second longer.

“The body isn’t here yet.” he said.

“Well then where is it?” I snapped,

“Still at the scene of the crime. I was going to get you before heading over. Guess you saved me a trip.” He went over to the carriage and stepped inside. He held out a hand to help me up, and I took it as I followed him,

“What do you know?” I asked.

“The police sent a telegram with very vague details. Just that a body had been found at 29 Hanbury Street and that they requested my presence.” No other words were said after that, the carriage being silent save for the sound of horse hooves on the stone.

“Let me do the talking.” he told me. I glared at his back as we exited the carriage, but I knew he had good reasoning for saying so. Who would take a young girl asking about a body seriously. I would be dragged off to Bedlam before I could even introduce myself. “Archer Clay. You had requested my presence?” he said, showing them an identification card.

“Who’s she?” the policeman responded briskly, jerking his head in my direction.

“A student.” Archer said. I would’ve hate to be on the receiving end of that tone. I watched the conversation proceed from there before letting my eyes wander around the building we were at. The dark brick of the house blended in with the mud covered street. This was definitely not a place a woman would likely live unless the situation were dire. I let my subconscious take over and I soon found myself following the trail of policemen towards room 29.

“Dinah, wait!” Archer shouted after me, noticing that I was no longer beside him. He was a moment too late as I had already opened the door to the scene. I stepped inside and for the first time the stench of death affected me beyond a small feeling of repulsion. My hands had been fiddling with the clasp of my cape and as my eyes took in the sight of the room, it hit the ground instantly soaking up blood. A string of curses escaped my lips before I could stop it and I slammed my eyes shut. I heard Archer come up behind me and his hand rested on my shoulder.

“You don’t have to do this one if you don’t want.” I shook my head and opened my eyes. Bile rose in my throat and it took everything in me not turn and run away. She was lying in a pool of her own blood. Her throat had been slashed from left to right, her swollen tongue slightly protruding from her mouth. Her once beautiful face was swollen as well. Her abdomen had been torn open resulting in a jagged wound, the organs that should have rested there were thrown over her left shoulder. Her left arm rested over her chest and her legs had been drawn up, her knees rested outwards.

“She was asphyxiated before her throat slashed.” I spoke, my voice thin. I stepped around the puddles of blood, “The attacker would’ve cut her throat once she was laying down.” I inspected the cavity that use to be the stomach. “At first glance most of her reproductive organs are missing from the scene since I don’t see them with the other organs. Again, the attacker would have knowledge of the anatomy and be an expert.” I continued on with thoughts of the murder which I knew Archer would be taking note of. I vaguely heard Archer give a report to the head policemen that was there. I ended up staring at the blood that puddled around the woman. Again, I saw a slight similarity between her and Jessamine. She had Jessamine’s golden brown hair and high cheekbones. I edged closer to the body, carefully watching where I put my feet so that another pair of my slippers didn’t get all bloodied up. I noticed a handkerchief, previously tied around her neck, slashed up and torn lying next to her also slashed throat. I felt another wave of nausea wash over and I quickly stepped back.

“Get her body bagged up and taken to the morgue immediately. We need to start a closer inspection of the body.” I order hurriedly. My feet took me to the doorway in long strides. I needed to get out of there. The fresh stench of blood was starting to cloud my judgement. I reached the railing that lined the door step and fell heavily against it. My knuckles whitened as I gripped the cold, metal rail tighter, trying to get control of the heavy breaths that wracked my body. Why are all the victims of similar look to Jessamine. I thought back to one of the pieces of advice my father had given me before his passing.

_“Once is an incident. Twice is coincidence. Three times is a pattern.”_

_“What’s four?”_

_“A serial killer.”_

I blanched at the thought. What if I did have a serial killer on my hands. I knew from research that those people always started with people they know, then they move on to people similar to them. Stop, I told myself. So far only two women have been killed that have similar cases. Similar features and almost exact wounds, only one more extreme than the other. The more I thought about it, I came to the idea that the killer had gotten interrupted the first time. The first girl, Mary Ann, had the exact same wounds as this girl does only she’s not missing any organs. My intent of calming my breathing failed, and I only became more panicked. I felt my chest constrict making my breathes only more painful. What if this happened again. Hurried footsteps sounded behind me and I felt a hand lay on my shoulder,

“Dinah are you okay?” Archer’s familiar voice brought me back from my panic and my breathing was regular again. I nodded sharply and he slipped his hand off my shoulder.

“I think we have a serial killer. I know we only have two victims right now, it’s just they are too similar to pass up as coincidences.” I brought my eyes up from the cloudy horizon line and looked searchingly in his eyes. “There are three things that are similar so far.” Archer nodded,

“I noticed, similar features and similar wounds. But what is the third thing?” he inquired.

“It’s not just that they both look alike, they both look like-” Even though I had thought this thought multiple times I struggled to get the name out, “-Jessamine.”

“Oh my-” he cut short and ran a hand over his mouth then the rest of face. He looked over the railing, both hands pulling at his hair. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice drawn tight. I nodded in a reply. He put his hand on my shoulder and led me away from prying ears, “Do you think someone is somehow attacking you through these? Like taunting you?”

I felt the blood drain out of my face. I hadn’t thought of that but looking at it from his words I could see what he would mean. The killer would have to have known that I'd be the one doing the autopsies on the bodies. The morgue is one of the only ones connected with the police stations. The only question is why he would be trying to get at me.

“What if the killer knows.” The words escaped my lips before I could stop it, and Archer looked confused at my outburst only for a second. “What if he’s killing people who looks like Jessamine to get at me because _he knows._ “ Everything went blurry for a second as I felt tears gather in my eyes. Jessamine could be one of the targets. If his plan is to somehow get back at me and Jessamine, what if one of the last targets he kills was Jessamine. My knees buckled and I staggered against the wall.

“Let’s get you home, all right? I can send a wire asking for Miss Welborn to make sure she is okay. Okay?” The walk back to the carriage, the entire ride back, and Archer sending the message all passed in a blur. _Please be okay. Please be okay. Please be okay._

“Dinah. Dinah.” I came out of my thoughts to him shaking my shoulders and I focused on Archer’s face, “Jessamine is okay.” Relief flooded through me. “I didn’t tell her why I was needing to speak to her just that you wanted to hear her voice.”

“She’s okay.” The wall that had been keeping my emotions in, shattered. I felt Archer’s arm wrap around me a comforting hug. “She’s okay.”

“Dinah Fae Bellaus. That is not appropriate.” My mother exclaimed. Archer pulled away so fast I thought he would fall over for a second.

“Mrs. Bellaus. I- We-” he stumbled over his words for an explanation. I jumped in,

“Mom, he isn’t trying to impose on my purity. He was just - It was a hard day.” My mom's features softened,

“All right. Don’t let me find you in that position again.” she responded sharply before turning away. I lasted about five seconds before laughter escaped my lips at the ridiculousness of the moment, turning the mood in the room from somber to amused. Only a second later Archer joined in with my laughter.

“That’s one way to change the mood.” Archer told me in between laughter. “In all seriousness, will you be okay?” I nodded in agreement, “I am going to go to the morgue and finish up on recording what we found and then send a wire to the police. I need to mention that we think that the two murders are connected by the same killer who is targeting you through girls who looks like Jessamine, but I won’t mention why he is targeting you.”

“Thank you Clay.” I murmured. One corner of his lips turned upwards in a small smile,

“Anything for my favorite Bellaus.” He stood up and as he made his way to the door I called out to his back,

“I’m the only Bellaus that you’d be friends with!” He turned his head and winked at me before slipping out the door. I smiled to myself as I picked up my skirts and wandered over to the kitchen. 

Now that I had already gone to work I technically wouldn’t have to visit the morgue today, but the stress over the fact that Archer and I had a serial killer on our hands filled me with worry; what else would there be to do? I had already gone over her body, with Archer taking notes and he would finish up any last comments on the body. He would send a report to the police station for them to review. I couldn’t get something out of my mind and I didn’t know what it was. It was like an aftertaste from a food that you didn’t quite know why it was there or what it was, but it obviously existed because you could taste it. Maybe I should go back to the morgue to see if I missed anything. The metaphorical aftertaste worsened as the thought I should go when Archer is gone went through my head. Why on earth would I hide from. He’s my closer advisor, I couldn’t dream of living without him. What would I even find if I went there? 

I shook my head to rid myself of the thought. A fresh tray of pastries lay steaming on the counter. As I bit into it the warm jelly filled my mouth and I hummed with delight. A lone piece of bacon was leftover on a platter from breakfast and I mindlessly nibbled on it as I paced the kitchen.

“Miss Bellaus, would you like me to prepare you a proper breakfast?” One of the maids asked as she entered the kitchen. I smiled kindly at her,

“I’m fine. These are very delicious pastries you made.” I told her and she blushed at my compliment.

“Thank you ma’am.” she replied, looking down at her hands before continuing, “If you don’t mind me asking, why weren’t you at breakfast this morning? Your mother seemed to be fine but I couldn’t help noticing your absence.” 

“I had a bit of work to do. It was an urgent matter at the morgue. Thank you for asking, Helen.” 

“I see ma’am.” she replied to my comment and slight smile appearing on her lip. She dipped her head slightly before heading over to the counter to start what looked like another batch of pastries. I set myself down on a stool that was in the corner of the kitchen and watched her work, her fingers and hands moving nimbly along the fresh dough. 

“Do you wish you could do something else?” I commented. I saw her back muscles stiffen and I hurried to explain myself, “You just seem so experienced with making-” I gestured to the pan of unbaked pastries, “I just couldn’t help wondering if you ever had dreams of getting out of this raggedy house and doing something else.” Helen’s fingers began to slowly start moving along the dough once more,

“Not to offend, but yes. When I was younger, before my mother died of influenza, she would bring me to the kitchen where we would spend hours baking. I learned all I know from her. I still get to bake here of course, but it is quite different than baking in your own place.” I hummed in agreement before taking my skirts in my hands to leave the kitchen.

~~~~~~~

I made my way through the cold, steel walls of the mortuary, my footsteps echoing along the walls as I stepped down the stairs into the cold room. I had no idea what I expected when I stepped through, but I felt that this was not it. The stonewalls were exactly the same as when I left them the evening before, the jars that lined the edge still reflecting light, the drawers all locked shut. The only difference was that the woman’s body now lay on the cold steel table beneath a light blue sheet. As my footfalls neared the table, my eyes wandered to the tag that identified her. Annie Chapman, aged 47.

Every time I approach a new body my stomach twists with emotion, one that I can never quite seem to identify. My eyes will always scan the outline of the body to get a clear picture: seeking for signs of struggle on the face. I would always examine the feet for the different signs of social class. Peasants, Lower Class, and prostitutes had grubbier, dirtier feet with clear lines of dust of where the stitching of the shoe fell away. Those who were upper class or richer had clean feet, very little dust or dirt lining the ankle.

This time though, I had to examine the body very little for I already knew what lay beneath the blanket. The mutilation of a body that used to be a beautiful women. I swiftly did my pre-autopsy preparation before sliding the sheet down off the body. A wave of nausea washed over me once again as I took the wounds in, now cleaned of blood or grit. I grabbed the notebook that lay on the table of tools, and flipped through it as I scanned the notes that Archer had put down. It was virtually word for word for what I had said to him that morning until I reached the portion that held his own, more in depth report. It was as I had expected, almost all reproductive organs missing from the scene, all organs in the abdomen had been cut out with a degree of precision that even I couldn’t reach even if I had been concentrating, certainly not in the small amount of time. Doubt began to itch at me as I continued to read down the page. In a rush, I grabbed the flea glass, a small microscope, to examine the stomach wounds.

There was something missing. There had to be. I wouldn't feel this kind of doubt about a report if there wasn't. My hand began to shake and I had to take a few calming breaths before I could continue. A memory flashed in my mind. a phrase I had said, merely a few words that my lips had muttered earlier that day at the crime scene. I had seen a piece of fabric that didn't belong. Fabric that wasn't found anywhere at at the apartment. I picked up the notebook, not caring that I got a various amounts of body juices on it, and scanned through. A scribbled out word stood glaringly out to me, and as I squinted to try to get a better look the beginning of the word fabric appeared. It had been almost unreadable underneath the layer of ink that now covered it. Why would he scribble it out. That would be an important fact that could help the police with their investigation. It had to be a small mistake, he realized he was going to spell it wrong and scribbled out and just forgot to rewrite the phrase. When I'm giving him a report, my words do fall out with no rhyme or reason o them.

 _Unless it was on purpose._ I shook my head to try and rid myself of the thought. He might've found it when he was doing the later on report and put it in a jar I reasoned. My eyes skimmed the shelf of jars, hoping, praying, that a small piece of fabric would stand out to me. Nothing prevailed. I felt myself falling apart bit by bit as I frantically searched through the scraps of loose paper on the table, then going through the small trash can next to it.

 _There has to be something here. Please let me find something_ A small mistake. That's all it was. A mishap. A simple mistake. Brushing it off the table by mistake as he was putting things away. That had to be all it was.

I fell to my knees and my fingers brushed along the cracks of the floor and felt under the table, desperate to feel a piece of fabric. What if it was nothing more than a fabrication that I had thought that earlier? And there was no fabric? I shook my head at the thought, there was evidence he had started to write it down but had scribbled it out. There was nothing underneath the table. I then went to the body, scanning every inch of it.

Nothing.

Nothing.

_Nothing._

Why would he hide it? Why would it be so important that he would scribble it out? Unless it was so _unimportant_ that he thought I wouldn't notice that small detail? That it was so small, so insignificant there was no way I could remember seeing it?

Doubt crept in. Maybe I'm misinterpreting this. A giant misunderstand, lack of communication. He might've not seen it.

But it was something I told him this morning to write down. He never missed a detail. He used shorthand, enabling him to write down phrases and sentences to keep up with the pace I set. Horror crept in, replacing the doubt like a fire that ravaged the London buildings. I could only think of one reason he would not write it down, leave it out. Destroying any evidence that the thought ever existed. That the piece of fabric had ever existed.

He was protecting someone.


	3. Chapter 4

I left the morgue in a hurry after that revelation, not taking a second to clean up the mess that I had made in my attempts to find the piece of fabric. When Archer goes back to the morgue he’ll see that I had been looking for something. He may think that I now know, but there was a possibility that he thought I was as oblivious as he hoped. From the second I left the morgue, I was on autopilot; my thoughts were scrambling to make a proper decision. The consistent clattering of hooves stopped and the carriage lurched as we came to a halt. We must’ve reached the place I told the coachman to go. _Where did I tell him to go?_ I thought as I realized I couldn’t remember what I said as I stepped out of the carriage. I allowed him to help me down the steps and my eyes took in the building in front of me. The familiarity of the house I was look at was already calming my frayed nerves. I stepped up to the door. My still shaking hand was struggling to grab the knocker when the door opened to reveal a very surprised Jessamine.

“Dinah!” I felt her eyes look me over and she gasped when she saw my shaking hand frozen in place. “Good gracious Dinah, what are you doing to yourself?” her voice came soft with worry and she grabbed my arm and pulled me inside to the warmth of the house. Her arms enveloped me in a hug and within seconds my shaking had dwindled to only a shiver.

“I needed someone to be next to.” I whispered. I felt her head nod.

“Do you want to talk about?” My body stiffened in response. “It’s okay; we don’t have to talk about that yet. Let’s go to my room okay? Get you warm.” Her hand slipped into mine as she led me to her room. Most of the time at this kind of moment I would’ve made some sort of a seducing comment, but this time I could only follow her with numb limbs. I dimly registered her slipping off my casual day dress and changing me into a sleeping gown; she sat me down on her bed. She pulled a blanket over my body and snuggled in next to me.

“We are going to talk about what happened, but for now, get some rest.” The warmth of her body pressed up against mine had me lulled into a sleep only moments later.

~~~~

I shifted my body beneath the blankets and confusion swept over me before I remembered everything that had happened. In time I'll have to confront him about it, but I had no idea how I should even start to approach the subject. Having known each other for three years, I couldn’t fathom not having him in my life anymore and if he was a serial killer? I don’t know what I would do. My eyes opened at the sound of the door opening and I saw Jessamine walk in.

“Hey there. You feeling better?” she asked.

“I...I...don’t know.” I replied with absolute honesty. I didn’t know how I was. Physically? I was fine now. I had stopped shaking and when I wiggled my toes I felt in control. Mentally? I don’t know if I’ll ever be the same. The man who had helped me through my father’s death may be a serial killer. I felt a surge of panic start to well up again and it must've shown on my face because Jessamine was there a moment later with her arms wrapped around me.

“Shhh.” she murmured, “Don't think about it. Only focus on breathing. Okay?” I did as she said, but instead of focusing on my own breath, I focused on the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed in and out. “Whatever is going on right now, remember that I will always be here for you. No matter what. I will always be okay. You know why?” I knew why but shook my head against her shoulder anyways, “I love you so much.” A smile came to my face, and I buried my head in the curve of her neck, breathing in her her scent, the cherry blossom perfume mixing with the soaps that she used to wash her clothes.

“I love you too.” I whispered back and she squeezed me before pulling away, her grey eyes locking with mine.

“Now, I'm not going to ask why you came here. But I do want to know why Archer Clay called my house this morning.” I looked down my hands,

“There was another case this morning. She had the same wounds as the previous victim, and they had similar features which means… there are now two victims who look like you. Arch-” I choked on his name and I began to tremble again, thoughts of him tearing apart my mind.

“Dinah. Dinah,” She grabbed my face in her hands, forcing me to look at her, “Focus. Don't shut down on me again.” Her stern voice, her voice that usually was like silk now had a sharp edge to it now, bringing me out of my head.

“He thinks we have a serial killer. One who is somehow targeting me through the victims who look like... well you because of our relationship.” Her reassuring expression darkened.

“That's why he wanted to know if I was okay." she murmured, "Another question, why did he call and not you?”

“I-” I paused, trying to figure out how to best phrase it, “I sort of was falling apart in fear that you _wouldn't_ be okay.” I flushed and I heard a soft snort of laughter. I looked at her with exasperation, “Way to be serious, Jessamine.” She had the decency to look sheepish,

“I have never seen you so much as shed a tear let alone break down, so it was - surprising to hear you say that, but I’m glad you care so much.” Her tone lightened at the last phrase, and I couldn’t help chuckle at the last sentence.

“I do hate you sometimes.” I muttered under my breath, but I knew it was loud enough for her to hear it.

“No, you don’t.” she teased.

“No. I don’t.” Jessamine once again drew me into her arms and we stayed curled up on her bed until dinner.

~~~~~

I didn’t end up getting dinner that night.

Instead, I woke up late the next morning still curled up in Jessamine’s bed. As my eyes opened and took in her room, it was obvious she had been up and about the room, already having left. Sunlight filtered in through the shades and I guessed it was almost ten. A moment after, the door was being pushed open slowly as if scared about making noise. Jessamine poked her head in and a loving smile appeared on her face when she saw I was awake.

“Morning, Love.”

“Good morning.” I replied sleepily, “I don’t want to get up.” Laughter escaped her lips. She’s even more beautiful in mornings.

“Well thank you.” she replied through even more giggles.

“I said that out loud, didn’t I.” Jessamine nodded and I threw the pillow next to me over my head in embarrassment.

“Don’t worry darling, you’re still wonderfully smart.” I pulled the pillow off my face and pulled her over for a small kiss.

“How long have you been up?” I asked as I pulled away.

“Only about half an hour. It’s 9:45 right now.” I was close to guessing the right time then. Cool. “Are you hungry?” she asked. I shrugged,

“I’m not...I guess I could eat.” Jessamine gave me a sympathetic smile,

“Get dressed and I’ll meet you at the dining room.” I nodded and climbed out of bed. I pulled out one of the dresses I had brought over here ages ago and slipped it on before putting my hair up in a bun. I threw the nightgown I had put on the night before over the back of a chair and padded out of the room. I crossed my arms as a chill ran through me as I entered the dining room. A plate of cold ham sat in the center of the table, along with a basket of rolls and steaming tea surrounding it. Jessamine came in from the other door with a tray of hot chocolates and set it down on the table.

“I didn’t know if you would want something sweet or something that would calm nerves so I got you both.” she explained, a flush rising in her cheeks.

“It looks delicious.” A beaming smile replaced her flush as I sat down in the chair. A comfortable silence fell over the room as we ate, hums of delight breaking the silence every once in awhile. In the end, I decided to have both, drinking the hot chocolate before turning to the cup of Congou Tea to sip on.

“What do you plan to do today? And don’t you dare say the morgue. You need a break.” I opened my mouth to protest but Jessamine interrupted before I even started, “Would you like to go get new dresses or look at new fabric for embroidery?” She paused a moment but didn't let me get a word in before continuing, “You know what, let’s do both. Waste away the day - and money - on some new stuff. We’ll go back to your house then and clean the old stuff out.” I sighed in resignation and she grinned at me,

“I guess it’ll be fun.” I mumbled as I lifted a fork of ham to my lips.

~~~~

By the end of the day, I begrudgingly admitted that I had fun. Jessamine and I went from store to store, her silk voice distracting me from thoughts of Archer and the morgue, pausing to look at all different kinds of dresses and fabrics, stopping every couple stores for a delicious piece of food or pastry to help stave our hunger. At the end of it, my feet were aching but I couldn’t rid myself of a smile even if I did think of the morgue or Archer. That feeling of elation didn’t leave until we started going through my closet.

Jessamine insisted that I sit while she shuffled through my dresses, showing me each and every one to ensure I got rid of the same number of dresses that we had bought. Once we finished going through the dresses, she decided we would go on to capes, saying that I had way too many to be proper. I protested of course, as I loved every single one of the capes because I had got most of them when my father was alive. Shaking my head with insistence at every cape she took out to show me. My insistence continued until she pulled one out, studied it a bit and determined that we _must_ throw this one out.

“We can’t!! I love the colors and it’s the only one that goes with…” I trailed off realizing that we had decided to toss that dress due to its raggedness. Jessamine’s expression was one of triumph,

“I was going to toss it out anyways even if you didn’t say yes. The back has a hole. Very improper.” Confusion swept through me.

“I don’t remember even tearing that one!” I exclaimed, pushing myself out of the chair I was sitting in. I grabbed the cape and examined it. I had worn this cape only two nights ago. Archer had given me the most beautiful flower that night, “I wore this just the other day…” I trailed off again.

“Well that doesn’t matter now. It’s torn so it needs to go.” Jessamine proclaimed. She took the cape back out of my hands and threw it in the pile of clothes that were getting thrown out. I sat, stumped. How had that cape gotten torn? I struggled to remember the carriage ride home with Archer but I wasn’t able to recall anything that happened after he gave me the flower. What was happening to me?

~~~~

September 10th

“In my defense, it was a brilliant idea at the time.” Archer said indignantly as we left the home in Whitechapel.

“It was a meeting for a committee trying to catch the Leather Apron. How could you think that would go well?” I retorted. A moment ago, we left the meeting for Whitechapel Vigilance Committee. It was created by and for those who felt they wanted to contribute to society and catch the murderer, who now had the catchy nickname by the newspapers “The Leather Apron”.

Archer had come to me this morning and asked if I would like to go later that day to the Whitechapel Vigilance Committee’s first meeting. I had told him I would think about it because I did have to think about it. I couldn’t exactly say no. If I did, he would know I think something is up and if he is protecting the killer, then I can’t be found out. He would send the killer after me then with the whole _whoever knows, must go_ thing in stories. So if I couldn’t say no, how would I act? Act as if I never found anything? Like I don’t know, or at least think I know that he’s protecting someone who had brutally murdered women? At first, I wasn't sure I would be able to stomach it, but after giving it some thought I decided I would. I _would_ go to this meeting with him. I _would_ act normal around him. Only now, I would be dissecting every word and phrase he says to see if there is a slip. It would be solely to gather information instead of hanging out. I knew it’d be difficult but I don’t exactly want to be murdered in my home.

I called him up that afternoon to say, “Yes! I would love to go. It’d be a great time to gather information!” Without a hint of a lie because I _would_ be gathering information, just not necessarily on the Leather Apron.

He picked me up in the carriage a little before six o’clock and when I protested about not having had dinner yet, he said they would be serving some. Sitting in the carriage with him was the hardest part of the night. He attempted to make small talk with me but I shut him down with “I’m not in the mood.” Archer didn’t talk to me much after that. We arrived at the meeting place and I reluctantly took Archer’s hand when he offered to help me out of the carriage.

“So what are we going to be doing here anyways?” I asked.

“One of the owners of a store down here, George Lusk, started this as a way to keep an eye out for the Leather Apron. I believe there are about fifteen people coming to this meeting, not including us. When Lusk invited me, he said that we would be electing a chairman and setting up ways of communication so that we are more of a group. We will also be discussing ways to help the police out with the investigation.”

“Sounds good.” I replied in a monotone voice.

“What’s up with you today?” Archer said, interrupting the brief silence that had begun. I looked at him in surprise. “I understand that you needed the day off yesterday. Miss Welborn told me that you had reached a breaking point and needed a time to regroup but you still seem very distant today.”

“I know and-" I paused to think of what to say, "I’m sorry. I’m still in recovery mode I guess. I am trying to block the bad thoughts out so that I can have fun with you. I guess I’m not doing a very good job of it.” He rested a hand on my shoulder for a moment,

“I understand.” Those words were uttered a moment before stepping into the The Crown, one of the public houses in the area. The minute we stepped in I was overwhelmed by all the noise and clamour going on around us. Men lined the bar tables, multiple glasses both empty and full on the tables. Women mingled about, some draped over the men all showing an absurd amount of cleavage. I can’t believe I actually agreed to coming. Archer laid a hand on the small of my back and led me to the back of the building and through a door, the man standing guard giving a nod before we entered. This room was much more manageable with less than twenty people milling about and one large table in the middle. A heavier set man in the middle of the room gave a clang of his cup, getting everyone’s attention.

“Thank you all for coming to this meeting. My name is George Lusk, as many of you may know. It’s very comforting to see that this many people are worried about the system of investigation going with the police to solve these murders. The first order of business I want to discuss is who should lead the rest of the meetings, to keep us all in order and to make sure our group runs smoothly.”

“How about you run it. This is your idea anyways.” A voice called from the back of the room.

“Any seconds to that?” Lusk said, his eyes searching the room. A chorus of voices erupted around the room agreeing to it. “Alright. Second order of business. There have been many murders happening, not only the murders of Chapman and Nichols. The police still have not released a reward for the killer. They don’t know if they are all connected, but I have gotten news from this young man,” he pointed to Archer, “who was the mortician on this case, has concluded that Chapman and Nichols are indeed connected.” I shot a sharp glance to Archer,

“You’re the mortician on this case??” I whispered sharply in his ear,

“He wouldn’t take it as seriously if I told him the a twenty-one year old woman had done the autopsies and concluded this. I had to tell him it was me.” I pursed my lips at his explanation even though it did make sense. As it always does.

“With this information released, I feel that there should be a reward offered for the killer or as he has become known, the Leather Apron. The police have shut down this thought because they feel it would inhibit their investigation even more.” An outraged cry came from somewhere in the room.

“What about it would inhibit it?”

“They feel that if they offer a reward, they would get too many false leads for the killer and they are already stretched thin enough.”

“Well that’s ridiculous!” The same man called out, “We should make our own reward. We all chip in money. This bastard needs to be caught. We have had enough.” A cry of voices rose in agreement.

“Mr. Aarons, I know you feel strongly about this topic since this is your neighborhood but I do not think we have enough money to make a fair enough reward.”

“What about her?!” A different voice cried out. All of the men turned to me and my eyes widened, “She looks rich enough.” The man who said this gave me a once over and licked his lips, “She looks very rich indeed.”

“Leave her alone.” Archer growled.

“What, you her husband? If you are, what kind of husband are you to bring her here? Get some extra money by selling her to the highest bidder? Any bids-” The man couldn’t finish his sentence. A fist slammed into his throat and he collapsed to the ground. Archer straightened his spine, shaking out his hand from the punch.

“Anyone else want to proposition her?” he said. Any side conversations ended. “Does anyone have any leads or did I punch someone for no reason.”

“Some people have said that both Chapman and Nichols were seen at the same pub. Ten Bells.”

“Any other leads?” The room was silent. “Let’s go then, Miss Bellaus.” He put his arm out and I rested my hand on it as he walked out. I followed him, with my eyes landing on the man still on the floor.

“I would get your throat checked out. It’s not very healthy to have it...I don’t know, accidentally rammed into a wooden pole?” I smirked slyly at him and as I turned my head to walk out the door I saw a similar smirk appear on Archer’s face.

“That went wonderfully.” I muttered sarcastically once we got out of the pub.

“In my defense, it was a brilliant idea at the time.” Archer said indignantly as we left the building in Whitechapel.

“It was a meeting for a committee trying to catch the “Leather Apron”. How could you think that would go well?” I retorted.

“We did get something though. Both victims connected to the Leather Apron were seen at Ten Bells. It’s not a lot but it is a start.” he defended. I huffed in annoyance but I had to agree. At least we had _something_.

“When do you want to check it out?”

“I was thinking whatever information we got from this meeting we would see where it got us tonight… but since you, as you put it earlier, are not in the mood, we could do it at a later time.” I regarded him with disdain. He slid his thumbs into his pockets, his facial expression not changing as he held eye contact. I pinched my lips together, shaking my head faintly. “Fine. Lead the way.”

We got to Ten Bells with little trouble. As we went inside it was a very similar scene to The Crown. I’m very glad I didn’t wear anything too revealing tonight, or else I would fit in too well with this crowd.

“What are we even looking for?” I said, my voice loud making sure Archer could hear me over the clamour.

“I honestly don’t know.” I let out a disgruntled sigh. “Stay close to me though. Don’t wander off too far, this is one of the worst pubs around.” Not long after that I felt myself leaving his side as I examined almost every inch of this place. The faces of the men, the women, their attire, along with every corner and crack on the walls trying to find any leads. I almost leaped out of my skin when a hand fell on my arm. I almost snapped off his head with my words but I soon realized that the hand on my arm was way too big to be Archers. I took a calming breath and turned around with a seductive smile on my face.

“I’m not open to anyone right now sweetheart. So please, kindly take your hand off me before I take off your hand.” I guess that wasn’t the right thing to say as the man only yanked me closer, his breath stinking of cheap beer.

“You look a little rich to be slumming it down here young miss. Let me take you home where it's safe.” I twisted my arm, wrenching it out of his grip.

“Don’t touch me you sick-” I couldn’t finish my curse as Archer came up to my side and pulled me away.

“I thought I told you not to wander off.” Archer growled into my ear. I tore my arm out of his grip.

“I can take care of myself.” I snapped at him and he gave me a dark look.

“Not down here you can’t.” he snapped back, “I shouldn’t have brought you here.” he muttered. We were almost at the door when someone called my name.

“Miss Bellaus.” an unfamiliar voice said from behind me. Archer and I turned around sharply to see a man I’ve never seen before.

“Who are you. How do you know my name.” I demanded.

“Robert James Lees. I believe I could be of service. I am a clairvoyant. I’ve been wanting to suggest my help to the police but I doubt they would take it very kindly since my people and I are seen as crazy or insane.”

“No wonder.” Archer muttered. “Get out of our sight. We don’t need your help.”

“At least take my business card in case you need to get in contact with me.” Lees pleaded. I could feel Archer ready to pull me away again and I disrupted his movement with a response.

“I’d be happy to. Thank you for offering your services. We’ll let you know if you’re needed.” I gave him a kind smile as I took the business card out of his hand. “Goodnight Sir.” I dipped my head slightly and walked pointedly to the door.

“I hardly think he deserves to be called sir.” Archer mumbled behind me. I could feel my patience thinning.

“You need to calm down Mr. Clay. I was doing fine in there, and thanks to you, Mr. Lees will probably not help us in the future at all.”

“No, you weren’t doing fine and we don’t need his help!” he exclaimed. I glowered at him.

“Have a goodnight, Mr. Clay.” I said coldly. I spun around and started to walk away.

“You can’t just walk home. It's too far! Especially alone.” he called out, his voice tight with anger.

“I think I’ll be fine.” I replied, and my feet carried me away from him, only to realize I never ate dinner.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning at the end.

I’ve read plenty of crime novels in my youth, stealing moments at night to read The Murders in the Rue Morgue by Edgar Allen Poe, The Rector of Veilbye by Steen Steensen Blicher or A Study in Scarlet by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. The one thing that is never actually discussed in these books is how dull and painstakingly long the interrogation process is - person after person going through the police department giving us nothing more than extra paperwork. To only give the department some gray hairs and the need to pull all nighters at the morgue.

In addition to the long nights, there was one other thing that seemed to cause my accelerated aging. The police station had recently had an accident in their crime lab, making it unusable, so they elected our morgue to do assist in the investigations. This means my alone space is constantly violated by the same three policemen, and each of them having an air of disapproval surrounding them. That not only means I don’t have my space, but my space is being filled with bigoted men who don’t think women deserve to be in the workforce, especially those of a higher class like myself. Bigoted men who think they know _my_ lab better than I do. Bigoted men who clearly don’t deserve to be in law enforcement because _they are idiots_ who don’t know how anything works.

“Are you sure that goes there?” a voice said from behind me.

“I’m pretty sure I am doing this right.” I said coldly as I was pushed aside from my work table by Mr. Arnold James. I mean seriously, even his name sounds bigoted, “I have worked here for nearly 3 years now, and I was practically raised here as my father owned this facility before he passed.”

Having elected to ignore me, he pushed aside the evidence that I had been working on, and replaced it with almost an identical piece of evidence then proceeded to use the tool wrong. I threw my hands up in the air and walked out of the morgue in defeat.

“Miss Bellaus! I thought you’d be working!” Archer exclaimed as I walked into his office area, where he was filing the reports to send to the police department. Don’t get me wrong, I still don’t trust him but I would rather be with someone who _might_ be on the wrong side than those who _are_ on the wrong side. Even if they are two completely unrelated topics.

“Can we kick them out. Please. Let them do things wrong at a different morgue. I cannot stand another moment of their bigoted...ness.” Archer chuckled at my comment.

“I wish, but if we don’t let them use our morgue then we will not be allowed to continue working on the Leather Apron murders and we really can’t have that happen.” I gave him an inquisitive look, “...with the murders being connected to your relationship with Jessamine? Now, how about you get back in there and show those bigots who’s the boss around here.” I grimaced at the thought but walked out of his office towards the morgue anyways. As I stepped down the stairs back to where the bigoted men resided, I couldn’t help but feel that something was off about that conversation.

“Oh, look! The little girl is back again.” Mr. Arnold James exclaimed and I nearly punched him in the nose right then and there.

“For one, my name is Miss Bellaus not little girl.” He looked indignant at the apparent disrespect I was showing him, but I barreled on, “Number two, you are doing that wrong. If you look at the piece of evidence I was examining and compare it with yours, you’ll see my subject will show quite a bit more of what you are looking for. Your subject, while it is bigger, it has less blood on it, while if you look at mine you can see a much larger amount of blood on it, allowing me to have an easier time of collecting the sample and twice as much evidence. Though that is not where your mistakes began. The first mistake was believing that everything I did was wrong and proceeding to re-do every experiment I had already completed only because I am a woman.”

Shock rose on their face and Mr. Arnold James looked ready to explode, his face turning more red than the crimson dress I was wearing, “Did you think I wouldn’t notice? I am quite a bit more observant than any of you pigs are,” I spat. “Which is why while you weren’t looking, I went back and replaced it with my specimen once again because you had even been using the microscope wrong while completing your experiment. I mean, how hard is it to use a microscope anyways??” I exclaimed.

I turned to the other two men in the room, having finished tearing Mr. James Arnold a new one. “Number three, you two have not been using gloves the entire process so there is a good chance that if I had used that evidence for a testimony in court it would be disbanded because we would’ve been accused of tampering with it. Now, if you would be so kind and start actually doing this right then maybe we'll get along or I am going to kick you out and have Mr. Clay report you to the chief of police for insubordination towards the head of the morgue.”

They didn’t bother me for the rest of the time they were there. I’m pretty sure they had asked Archer for my schedule of when I would and wouldn’t be there because I actually never saw them again. The only evidence that they hadn’t ran away completely was the crumbs of food left on the work tables. Which goes to show their incompetence once more.

Another highlight is that after my outburst whenever I walked into the police station to bring a report that Archer or I had filled, it’d get very quiet and the men would nearly jump out of my way to let me pass

That being quite a happy improvement, especially since Archer and I were present for many of the interrogations involved with the Leather Apron case. Although, all interrogations we were present for had quite similar results since most of them were only questioning the witnesses, not actually interrogating suspects. They all had the same thing to say about what they saw the night of the murders. The prostitute was seen entering her apartment with a young person, most likely a boy. The young boy wasn’t seen leaving the apartment but the next time someone went to find her, she was dead. Giving us absolutely nothing to go on. Then the police would find a lead from the thousands of letters sent into the police station, follow it, arrest someone and release the suspect within three hours because the police found they had a rock solid alibi. 

Then came one letter. At first, it was just set aside as some person trying to rile up the police but then they sent it down to my lab for examination. They did this with every letter they got. They were trying to see if anything useful could come of it. Nothing ever did. They were all fakes and I could easily pull some fingerprints, which if the Leather Apron was as smart as we all thought, I wouldn’t be able to find any incriminating evidence. I also never read them, it would take up time that I really didn’t have. I don’t think the police read these letters either. Although, this letter was spotless. No fingerprints. No stains. Not even a spec of dirt that I could try to trace. Absolutely nothing. So I did read this letter.

 

_Dear Boss,_

_I keep on hearing the police have caught me but they wont fix me just yet. I have laughed when they look so clever and talk about being on the right track. That joke about Leather Apron gave me real fits._

_I am down on whores and I shant quit ripping them till I do get buckled. Grand work the last job was. I gave the lady no time to squeal. How can they catch me now. I love my work and want to start again. You will soon hear of me with my funny little games. I saved some of the proper red stuff in a ginger beer bottle over the last job to write with but it went thick like glue and I cant use it. Red ink is fit enough I hope_  
ha. ha.  
The next job I do I shall clip the ladys ears off and send to the police officers just for jolly wouldn't you. Keep this letter back till I do a bit more work, then give it out straight.  
My knife's so nice and sharp I want to get to work right away if I get a chance. Good Luck. 

_Yours truly_

_Jack the Ripper  
Dont mind me giving the trade name_

_PS Wasnt good enough to post this before I got all the red ink off my hands curse it No luck yet. They say I'm a doctor now. ha ha_

The letter slipped out of my hands and a thud echoed in the room as my back hit the wall. I clasped my hands against my mouth as a scream threatened to escape. It wasn’t even the fact that this letter was possibly the real thing but something about it felt familiar. _But I had no idea what._ My first instinct was to call out for Archer but if he was apart of this somehow then what would he do if I showed him this letter? Try to destroy it? If I left it here and he found it, would it disappear like that piece of cloth did? The letter did say to keep it until something else happened but should I even be listening to whoever wrote this letter? Was anything in this letter even valid? My train of thought was interrupted by a familiar voice.

“Hey Miss Bellaus, can you look over-” Archer’s voice abruptly stopped as his eyes fell upon me. He dropped the papers he had in his hands and rushed over to me. “What happened? Did something happen to Jessamine?” I shook my head.

“No. Nothing’s happened to Jessamine.”

“Well then what’s wrong?” he exclaimed.

“One of the letters the police sent to us just... caught me off-guard. It felt too real but I don’t think it’s gonna be anything to worry about.” I responded.

“You sure?” I nodded again. “Alright then.” Disbelief shone from his eyes but if I was truly in shock, I wouldn’t be in the best state of mind, right? “I just wanted you to look over a report I had written out for the police about the heart attack victim we had yesterday.” he said, changing the topic.

“Right. Sure.” I walked numbly over to the table where he had set the report. “What did you want me to look for?”

“Just double check I had everything right. It’s just been a hectic few weeks so I haven’t been completely focusing on wording.” I read over it and handed it to him.

“That seems fine.”

“Right. Thank you Miss Bellaus.” and after a few seconds, “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yes I’m absolutely fine.” I said sharply, “I’m just going to finish up testing a couple more letters before I head out.”

“Okay. See you tomorrow.” I nodded as he walked away. He paused and turned his head, “You know you can always talk to me. Right?” I smiled at him tersely. I took a deep breath and released it when he finally disappeared through the door. I don’t think our conversations have ever been like this. Even when we first met, our conversations flowed without any weirdness about it. I felt my shoulders slump with frustration. I really do hope he has nothing to do with the Leather Apron, or I guess Jack the Ripper now, because then once this is all over we can go back to how everything was before. Which would be nice. I sighed once again and walked back over to where I had dropped the letter. I slipped on some gloves - no point in contaminating it even more right? - and started looking it over again.

I wasn’t exactly lying when I told Archer I would be going over letters before I left. It just wouldn’t be letter _s_ , only one. I examined it and began writing down every little thing about it, the color of the ink, the material of the paper the letter was written on, the possible utensils used, really anything that could give me a lead on who wrote this. By the time I had finished, nothing stayed undocumented. That just left me with one thing. What to do with the report and letter. Logically, I should leave it here and file it away because that’s what would have done before all of this but every warning bell goes off in my head when I think that because if Archer is involved, then leaving this for him to find would possibly be catastrophic. So if I didn’t leave it here, where would I put it? My house? Where any of my servants or mom could find it? I do have a locked drawer where I keep all of my work related stuff, but that doesn’t mean someone could still get in. Though my room is the only place Archer wouldn’t go because even a serial killer has to follow proper manners in this era. My eyes flickered over the letter as I pondered what to do.

“I’ll bring it home with me.” I decided aloud. I slipped the letter and report into my handbag and made my way to the door. The carriage ride passed with little incident and by the time I got home it was almost dusk. I had decided to stop at a little sweet shop, I felt deserved something tasty.

“Good Evening Miss Bellaus, are you up for some dinner?” One of my maids, Elizabeth asked. I smiled sweetly as her,

“That would be amazing. Thank you Elizabeth.” She smiled at me and I walked to my room. I took the key that hung behind my dresses and opened up my drawer, sliding the letter and report in. Now I guess I just wait.

~~~~

September 30th

I shuffled my legs beneath the covers before rolling onto my back. Sharp pain ran through my body and I shot up into a sitting position. I cursed under my breath as I twisted my arm around to my back and ran my fingers across. A hiss of pain escaped my lips as my fingers ran across already scabbing scrapes. _What the hell._ I rolled out of bed, stumbling as I hit the ground. I stripped off my nightgown and twisted to look at the scrapes on my back. I stared in horror at the reflection. Calling them scrapes was an understatement. They were more like gashes running in long streaks across my back. They resembled the kind of marks that were left on Jessamine’s back after one of the nights we had spent together, only a more extreme version. They were deep and they were colored a dark red, implying that whoever had given them me was in extreme pain...or in immense pleasure. I paused at the thought, _What happened to me last night. And why can I not remember._ I broke out of my train of thought as I heard footsteps approaching the door.

“Miss Bellaus? Do you need any help? I heard crashing.” One of my maids, Grace, asked through the door. I closed my eyes in annoyance. She must’ve heard me getting out of bed.

“I’m fine, Grace. Thank you.” It was a few seconds before I heard her footsteps leading away from the door and I let out a breath. My breath was sucked back in as an idea came to me. I rushed to the door and ran to catch up to Grace, not caring if the door slammed.

“Actually, Grace!” I reached her side, “I do have one question.” She dipped her head, allowing me to continue, “Do you know when I left the house last night and about what time I got back? If so, do you know where I was headed?”

“You only left the house for a short while, Miss, then you came straight back with a friend. But don’t worry, I won’t tell your mother.” she said with a small smile.

“No, no. I don’t worry about that. I can’t remember,” I spoke in a small whisper, my fear getting the better of me.

“I don’t understand, Miss. You don’t remember a single thing from last night?” I shook my head and I felt panic sweeping across me. Why don’t I remember anything? I have three gashes on my back. Surely I would have to remember getting those.

“Did I leave the house after I came back with the friend?” I asked, trying to get a better picture of what might’ve happened. Grace nodded,

“About two hours later when I was tending to the fireplace, you and your friend snuck out. I assumed you were going out to a pub or something. I don’t think you saw me. Then as I was heading to bed just a little after one in the morning, you came back to the house. I couldn’t see much as the lamps were all out, but you were staggering like you had been hurt. I went to bed shortly after that; I wouldn’t know if you snuck out again after that.”

My heart plummeted. I went out twice last night maybe more. Both of which I had a friend with me. Both of which I couldn’t remember a single second of. Grace seems to think that the friend I had with me was… but I would never cheat on Jessamine. At least… I had thought I wouldn’t.

“Thank you Grace. That’s all for now.” I said, dismissing her. She looked reluctant to leave me alone but she walked away after a few seconds. How do I not remember any of it? It was obviously a rough night, with the deep gashes on my back and my staggering in last night. My hands involuntarily gripped my head, pulling harshly at my hair. Why don’t I remember it. I _should_ remember it.

Memory flashes took over my thoughts in a second. Days where I could remember waking up but don’t remember actually falling asleep. Moments halfway through the day where I lost hours of time, moments where I thought I just had gotten lost in thought or in whatever I was doing. Moments where I was in the middle of making dinner but the next thing I remember was getting ready to go to bed. Full nights missing and if I thought hard enough I would be able to line them up perfectly with the last two murders.

I let out a strangled cry. _What the hell is happening to me._ Filled with panic, I fumbled through my closet for something that I could get on easily. I tore off one of my dresses off the hook and put it on. I fumbled with my brush on the desk and the letter from Jack the Ripper floated to the ground. With shaking hands I lifted it up and suddenly I knew why it felt so familiar. I shook my head in panic. _No No No No No._ It can’t be. My hands blundered on my desk as I looked for something with Archer’s handwriting. With trembling hands I compared them.

They didn’t match.

I gasped in relief, my eyes filling with unshed tears. But why does this letter still spark recognition? There is no reason I should still feel this way towards the letter. I felt my chest start to constrict as I felt the now familiar symptoms of panic start to settle in.

In the throes of my panic, I shoved my feet into a pair of shoes, not even caring if it looked presentable and rushed out of my room. I almost crashed into Grace but I rushed past her, ignoring her cries of worry. I let my instinct lead me and I honestly had no idea where I was going, but the path I took felt eerily familiar. Only I did not remember ever going down this street. But that’s the problem, is it not? _I can’t remember._ How many days or nights have gone by that I don’t remember.

The scene that I came upon was swarming with policemen. I pushed my way through into the scene of the crime, bile rose in my throat and I could not push it down this time. I reached a wastebasket just in time as I retched. Her ears were missing. Just as the letter from Jack the Ripper said.

“Miss, you can’t be in here.” A policeman said with worry. I shook my head.

“I’m with the police department, head of the Morgue involved with the Jack the Ripper case.”

“Jack the Ripper, eh? Fancy new name you got there.” he replied cockily.

“It works better.” I whispered as I walked back over to the body. “What’s her name?”

“Catherine Eddowes.” I nodded and surveyed the body. From first glance her face had been mutilated, her throat severed, and a giant jagged wound in her abdomen. As I stepped closer I could tell that her kidneys and uterus had been removed, just like the last victims. Only in Eddowes case, the mutilations to her body were way worse than the others. Just like the last victims, I knew she would look similar the Jessamine even though I couldn’t actually see her features anymore. “We actually found a first body, just a few blocks from here. Although we don’t know if it is is connected to, what is it..Jack the Ripper?”

“Two murders?” I choked out in horror. The policeman nodded,

“The only thing we don’t know is if she is connected. Only her throat had been slashed. No wound in the abdomen, like the previous two and Eddowes.”

“Do you have a picture?” I asked, my voice a little stronger now.

“Of course.” He called over to a man with a camera and the man walked over. “I need the picture from Elizabeth Stride’s crime scene.”

“Did you just say...Elizabeth Stride?” I blurted out. The policeman sent an inquisitive look to me,

“Yes, why? Do you know her?” The man with the camera pulled a picture out of Elizabeth Stride.

“She is...was one of my maids. She’s usually the one that checks on me in mornings so that the kitchen maids can start with breakfast if I am up but...it was a different maid this morning. I mean I would normally notice if one of my maids are missing but...I wasn’t in the best mindset this morning.”

“That’s a start. We’ll need you to come in at some point for some questioning. You aren’t in trouble, but we need to know everything about Miss Stride. Do you know anything about Miss Eddowes here?” I shook my head reluctantly,

“Only that she looks like one of my friends Jessamine, as have the other two but I have already told the police this.”

“Thank you for all your help.”

“Much obliged. I will send in a report of Eddowes later today, same with Stride.”

“Thank you. I will call a carriage for you to head over to the crime scene.”

“I will not need one. I need to go somewhere first before I go see Miss Stride.” I walked out of the room as proudly as I could but the moment I got out of view from the scene I broke into a run with a destination in mind.

Robert James Lees. The clairvoyant Archer and I had run into almost three weeks ago, after we went to the first Whitechapel Vigilance meeting. I got to the edge of his street and paused. Do I really want to do this? Sink this low? I took a deep breath and walked the rest of the way there. I only hesitated briefly before knocking on the door. I saw a quick flash of someone looking into the peephole before it disappeared again. 

“Miss Bellaus. I’m surprised to see you here.” he said, opening the door just enough so his face could look out. He was obviously opposed to letting me in.

“I need your help. I’m...forgetting things. Huge blocks of time.” I could still sense hesitancy, and I shared much further than I wanted to, “Time missing over the nights of the Jack the Ripper murders.” His eyes widened at the last phrase.

“Come on in.” He opened the door wider to let me in and as I walked through I felt a sense of finality as the door clicked shut behind me.

“I was hoping you would be able...maybe bring back up past memories or something. Or I don’t know, talk to the victims….I just need to do _something._ ”

“Follow me.” he told me, leading me in his sitting room. “Now you need to know something Miss Bellaus, I cannot actually bring back memories for you. That is something you need to figure out how to do yourself. The one thing I can do is give you some insight for why you are having these blackouts.” He gestured for me to sit down, and as I did he walked over to a cabinet, opened it and pulled out a letter. “This is something I received from your father. Shortly before his passing.” He held it out to me and tears welled up in my eyes as I recognized my father’s handwriting.

 

_Dear Mr. Lees,  
I am sending this letter in hopes that you will be able to someday help my daughter understand. I know she will come into contact with what I am to share with you, and I wish you will share this when she asks about certain things. _

_There is a drug. Commonly known as the Devil's Breath but she will know it as Scopolamine._

I let out a sobbed breath as I read the last line. Scopolamine is a drug that if used correctly, can quite literally take the free will of any victim but if used another way, would be seriously addictive. 

_I became addicted to it after an unfortunate accident with the chemical. I never realized the effects until later. Major blackouts. Periods where I would make dinner and not remember eating it. Going to bed but not remember waking up. I don’t know what I did in the duration where I was on this drug._

_I eventually rid myself of this illness but I never truly recovered. I still had frequent blackouts even after I stopped taking the drug and I began to notice not only my memory was affected, my physical health began to decline as well. I guess that is why I am on my deathbed now._

_My daughter did come in contact with it once, but I quickly steered her away from it but even once can be the downfall of anyone._

_One reason I am writing this letter is someone who had become like a son to me had taken an interest. One of my students wanted to do a research paper on it, I tried steering him away from it as well but once he had his mind set on something, he never let it go. I took this student under my wing in hopes of putting this mind of his to something useful, maybe one day taking over my morgue and in league with my daughter, I knew they could do anything if they had each other. Though every once in awhile I would find him back at his old reports with one of those wretched white flowers in front of him scribbling away and I knew I didn’t try hard enough. I only hope he doesn’t go any further with his research. Clay really did achieve anything he put his mind to._

I gasped at the revelation. Clay. Like Archer Clay. But a wave of doubt ran through me, Archer had never mentioned he knew my father, let alone having had him as a mentor or father figure. It couldn’t possibly be _my_ Clay.

_I wrote this letter with a second reason. To warn my daughter of the possibility Clay never stopped his research._

_Don’t show her this, or let her know this letter even exists if she never asks. But if she comes to you with worries of blackouts, please show her this. I just want her to be safe._

_Sincerely,_  
_Thaddeus Bellaus  
P.S. I love you my dear Dinah Fae. Always live with love in your heart._

“Thank you for showing me this, Lees.” I told James with a sob, clutching the letter tightly against my chest, holding onto one of the last things my father made. 

“Oh my dear. I wish you had never shown up on my doorstep and I wish I never had to give you that letter.” he murmured.

“Me too.” I whispered. 

“Now be on your way. I’ve done all that your father wished me too. I hope you find your way in this mess.” he replied. I smiled sadly at him and dipped my head to him before walking out the door with the letter held tightly in my hand. I have some work to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: implied mentions of rape/cheating, shown murder


End file.
